Atonement - Aussie Version
by skruff
Summary: A version of prosemed's "Atonement" where a bunch of Aussie Slang has invaded the story. So welcome to Australian Castle and Beckett.
1. Chapter 1

**EDIT:** _This, my friends, is definitely quite exaggerated Aussie Slang. We don't generally speak like this. But I really wanted to make the slang noticeable._

 **A/** **N:** _Okay so I had this idea to 'translate' stories into an Australian format. So write somebody's story, but with heaps of stereotypical Aussie slang. I sent a message out on tumblr and I had some interest in this endeavour._

 _As you guys might notice, the slang definitely makes the characters less, sophisticated. This probably goes a little OOC but it is basically placing all the characters of Castle in an Australian environment. I have changed some of the names of places to make it relevant to Australia also._

 _ **prosemed** , thank you for allowing me to use your story and bombard it with a lot of crazy Aussie slang._

 _Again, I did not write the story. I just changed some words and actions to make it Aussie-fied_

* * *

 _Strewth_ the cuppa he drank today. Was it too strong? Or had the obvious residue of the previous night drinking with the flies, taint it? Castle surely could muse up several things.

But he refused to, in fear of thinking about, well, her.

Thankfully Martha had been so accommodating to him that morning, even if the coffee went to waste. His body had sunk well into his sheets as he nursed a headache. He could barely move, but not for lack of will or power. Any attempt disturbed some part of his head, straining a vein possibly, the throbbing beating against his skin that still reeked of the bar. His itinerary for the day entailed just to stay in bed, and maybe, just maybe make it to the living room to distract himself with some tv, but Martha dragged him out with her to the bank having none of his moping around.

She struggled to yarn with him in the car on the way, each try dismissed with a nod or incoherent mumble as he often dazed out. Only half the words she spoke to him made it through his ears, but even then they weren't processed completely.

"Kiddo I'm preggers." she said, in a last attempt to grab his attention.

"Good-o, mother," he replied, eyes unwavering from the road.

She threw up her hands in frustration, she'd had a gutful. Staring him down, she waited for his eyes. He didn't meet hers until he looked her way to go for a parking spot. "What?"

"Pull your head in, Richard," she said pointing her finger. She sustained it even while getting out of the car, but before he could respond, she strode far ahead of him, leaving for a moment to allow him to step back into reality.

Listening to his mother bounce back and forth with the manager got old after about two minutes. His fingers grew fond of his forehead, trying to remedy the violent pulse at his temple, aggravated with every increase of his mother's voice. He had insisted several times to just cosign the loan, but her stubbornness persisted, prolonging their stay. In an effort to divert his attention elsewhere, his awareness of his ringing mobile grew, which had been going off every twenty or so minutes since eight. Beckett had been calling and messaging, and within the last hour the frequency increased exponentially, but he let them all pass…until he couldn't stand the sound of it, and or boredom of the wait. Slipping away from the desk, he went to call her back. It only took a couple rings for her to answer.

"Castle–how ya going?" she started, her approach timid. He heard the relief in her voice, but something else underlay it, something like…fear.

"What's up," he managed. His voice kept up, but the words still fell flat. He didn't shy from showing his disinterest, crisp and clear to her ears.

"I was just–um," she struggled, "you right?"

"Just ace," he dismissed. She waited for some continuance, but nothing came.

"My calls and messages, did you happen to–"

"–yeah," he rushed, "I've been flat out like a lizard drinking."

"Righty-o," she said, her tone contradicting her words. No, it certainly wasn't okay. He'd missed so many of her calls and messages. Why? First ditching the talk they were 'sposed to have after the last case, now this?

"Was there anything important? Is that why you called?" He started cutting, cutting away at her, more bitter than the coffee still lingering on his tongue.

"I just thought you would come in today–listen, I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" She let her edge out too. Why the hell was he like this?

"A bit mate, yeah, I'm–tending to some business things right now, I've gotta shoot off."

He shouldn't have called her back.

Silence hung between them, but he paid no attention anymore. His eyes fixated on the two individuals who just walked in, dressed in scrubs, wary and just a little too self-conscious as they entered the building. His focus had wandered so much, he screened out Beckett, who'd been calling for his attention.

"Castle–Castle, is everything right?"

He followed their eyes, watchful of their moves, his breath nearly ceasing as he closed in on them. "No. No it's not–I think this bank is about to be robbed."

"Castle we're not doin' this, okay–"

"–I'm serious," he pressed. Another walked in. His heart and head pulsated in sync. "There's a man and woman dressed in scrubs, and a third just walked in. They all have iffy looking–"

Then everything went pear shaped

"Everybody hit the deck! Now!"

 _Shit_.

Panic. Screams. Demands. Her chest fell inward, her breath choked in her throat as she listened. Muscles tensed, eager to act, but remained restricted, still aware that she sat helpless at her desk.

And he was there.

"Castle what's happening," she urged him. His silence continued, hollowing out the pit of her stomach as she lie in wait. "You need to tell me what's goin' on."

Fighting against the chaos he had darted for his mother, ducking behind the desk, shielding her from view as he looked on the situation. They instructed everyone to throw down their phones as they began to ravage the place, but he clung to his mobile, knowing this was his lifeline.

"Castle–!"

"–I'm at the Commonwealth Bank on the main drag. They've gone for the manager's key, taken him aside. Emptied the tills. There's three of 'em, all dressed in scrubs."

He listened to her call out to the boys, sending for help. She kept assuring him a squad was on the way, but he knew better. Instinct informed him how this could play out. They've got buckleys. Still, he clung to the hope of being wrong.

"Just three?" she clarified again. As he motioned to speak, a chilled hole rested on the back of his neck. Barrel. With a hard swallow, he forced out the last words.

"Plus one. So I lied, but you're familiar with the concept."

In a moment's confusion, her words went dry, abandoning her mouth as the sound crackled, a new voice emerging on the line. "Your boy's game as Ned Kelly over here with me," he started. "It's a bloody shame I'll have to make an example of him."

She packed on her voice, mustering up the strength to put aside her fear of the stakes in the situation…His life. "I wouldn't do that just yet. I've got the boys in blue on the way over right now. No damage has been done, so you can still come good." She kept her voice leveled, even though her screams tore up the walls inside. Clawing, peeling away at her as her imagination painted the worst. "I'm giving you fair go, _a_ choice. I reckon that's pretty damn generous of me, don't you think?"

"So you're doing me a favour, huh sweetheart?" He cocked his head, staring down at Castle as he trained his gun on him, teasing as he slid it up towards his head.

"The best kind. Because otherwise I'll have to hunt you…and trust me, you don't want that."

"Nah mate, I probably don't." For a moment, he seemed to consider her words. But he snatched it away. "You know what though? I'll take me chances"

The line cut dead, phone crushed under his heel –

along with her heart.

* * *

 **A/N:** _let me know what you guys think about the Aussie slang. I suggest reading prosemed's story "Atonement" if you want the real thing. This was just a little...experiment shall I say, we wanted to give a go._


	2. Chapter 2

All the way to the bank, her breathing slowed, sharp and stifled with every bit like a stab to her chest. Though concentrated on the road, her mind spilled out, overflowing with all the questions, the scenarios, and the words, all those bloody words still trapped under her tongue…the words for him, words about him, what he was, who he was. Plenty of things still unspoken.

She had to convince herself this mess between them involved something else, even if just to clear her head to think on the task at hand, but underneath the layers and folds of her denial, she knew. Her gut told the truth, and it knew better, but for now she couldn't listen to it, as only one thought plagued her mind. _He's in there. He's in there. He's in there and were stuck like this._

When she arrived on the scene, she inched towards the front of the police line, passing through as her eyes locked onto the building. Her breath trembled at the sight of it, providing just enough to keep her up. Knees buckling slightly, with a back that desired to give in, she fought it. She fought every bit of weakness stirring inside her. She had to get him. No matter what she would get him out alive. That was the goal. Her goal.

Before she could reach the Captain handling the operation, Espo and Ryan met up with her with new information, hopeful for progress, but received just the opposite.

"He doesn't need us," she repeated their words. "He said that?" They settled for nods, studying her reaction time, assessing where she was at mentally. They'd watched her all morning fussing over Castle. Now this was happening…she had to be on edge, and they prepared themselves to back her up or knock off whatever emotional torment kept her wrapped tight.

But damn–they resided farther out of the know than they even realized.

She started a step towards the command center, but Espo held out a hand to stop her from passing through them. The lines in her face shone more evident in the sunlight than inside the precinct. The sight alarmed them both.

"What's goin' on with him Beckett," Espo said. His eyes steadied on hers, the seriousness of his concern readily flowing from them. Turning elsewhere to look, her eyes refused to meet his and Ryan's gaze right away in fear that she'd give something up, something they shouldn't see. She'd deal with her pain on her own, on her own terms. She loved his good intentions, both of them, but this was the last thing she needed to do right now.

"Nothing," she said, maintaining her best voice and face. Each of them knew her bluff, but they didn't fight it. The distress sat on her face as every part of her lied, shielding the ache suppressed deep into her bones as his face surfaced in her mind again. That's not to say that it ever left. It took to a memory of him laughing, looking at her with such lo–

 _No,_ she told herself, accepting the denial of the situation again.

"We know you guys had a bit of a blue this morning," Ryan stepped in. "I mean, do we have anything to worry about besides what's going on here? Something we don't know?"

 _A lot of things._

"I appreciate the concern guys. I do. But it's between me and Castle. She'll be apples. Just worry about getting him out. Let's bring him home."

Both boys exchanged glances as she walked passed them, going for the captain. They followed suit, pacing themselves with her long strides towards the center. She stepped with so much fervor, a clear determination to assert herself in any way she could. Upon entering, Captain Peterson made eyes at her immediately.

"Captain Peterson my name is Detective Kate Beckett–"

"You the cop he spoke to? You're Kate?" He walked toward her, immediacy in his step and voice.

"I–yes, yes sir." All her initial built up energy, ready to bark at him, started to fade.

"He's asking to have a yarn."

"What, again?"

"To negotiate, detective."

"Why me?"

"Said, and I'm quoting here, 'she sounds like quite a catch, plus I think her boy is in here, which is always fun.'"

 _Bloody hell_. How cluey is he? Is that what Castle would become now? Leverage? She started to rot inside over the idea while the boys shot looks at each other, all of them wondering what the hell it was like inside. How was he handling himself? Was he hurt at all? How was Martha?

"Sir, I'm not trained in hostage negotiations. I don't think–"

"Is it fair dinkum? He really your partner?" Her lips parted to speak, but nothing fell out. Of course he was her partner…her partner in all the ugliness, in all the laughter, in all the pain they endured together for the last four years. She couldn't think of anything more true.

She just nodded curtly in response, sitting like a stunned mullet. Biting down her bottom lip, eyes batting hard to restrain her tears.

"I reckon that should be motivation enough for you. We're up shit creek without a paddle otherwise, he won't talk with anyone else."

She turned behind to look at Ryan and Espo, who nodded in encouragement to the set up. "We'll handle investigating backgrounds. No worries. You do your thing," Espo said. They both motioned to leave, and with the shut of the door she returned her eyes to Peterson.

"What's your specialty–?"

"Beckett, sir. I'm a homicide detective at the twelfth precinct."

"Holy-Dooley. You serious?" Her eyebrows furrowed at his words, expectant for an explanation at his contempt. "Righty-o, you ignore every instinct your homicide training has ever taught ya. All of it. You keep him calm above anything else, you get me?"

She nodded, but inside she knew she couldn't actually promise such a thing. Whoever this bugger was, he was a definite threat to Castle. If she had to chase him down with a shotgun, she would.

Without _any_ hesitation.

* * *

Castle's keen observations served him well inside. Amidst the hostages, he kept quiet, analysing the sight before them, writing the story, editing and revising in his head as he tried to render the real agenda. He noted on everything they did, keeping silent until he could obtain some proof for his theory. At least this way, he wouldn't be worried or concerned about the outside–the efforts Beckett contributed to helping them. He struggled to suppress his thoughts, his musings of his muse, but she still occupied the back of his mind. He was okay, right up until the phone call the "doctor" received.

"Hey, Trapper John here," he started, circling the hostages. His eyes sought for Castle, wide with a grin plastered along his mouth…unnerving. "Hey Ned Kelly, it's your Sheila! Katie, it's good to hear ya voice."

"It's strange, can't really say I feel the same." She kept herself down, though mad as a cut snake, resisted the urge to blow his head off with a wave of her words. "How's everyone?"

"Here, let me put you on speaker." He held out the phone as he walked toward Castle and Martha. Bending down beside them, he held it up towards Castle's face, who shied away in distaste. "Say G'day to your sweetheart," he teased.

"She's not my girlfriend," he muttered low. Through the line, she still caught it, and rolled in her lips to level herself again. Yes, it was true. But for whatever reason, it packed a punch to her chest, reigning her heartstrings.

"Why not? I mean if her voice is as sexy as–"

"Our relationship is strictly professional," he jabbed again. Martha's eyes flicked toward his, meeting a pair of duller blues. A gulp went down her throat, watching the darkness that consumed her son. "We're work mates, I told you that."

Her heart tugged deep, further and further when he spoke trying to sterilise the label of their relationship. They didn't just work together, not really, not with all things considered. After all they'd been through together, a working relationship had to be the most basic thing of what they were. Then again, they didn't completely know what they were themselves. "That's my partner you've got there," she said, hopeful he would hear the earnest undertone, the sincerity in her claim over him. Partner…partner made so much more sense to her. Someone beside you, day in and day out. It meant everything and anything, without having to explain much.

But that was exactly the problem.

"I'd like him back," she continued, shoving aside her thoughts. "Along with his mother and the rest of those innocent folks stuck with him."

"Give–and it will be given. Guess who's gotta give first?"

"We're gonna work through this. I'm sure we can come to some agreement. But you'll have to make the first step for us to start movin'."

"I need to know if you can deliver, or if you'll lie to me. If you can't deliver, I kill hostages. If you do give me a furphy, I kill hostages. If you play sillybuggers, I kill hostages. Note the pattern."

"No worries. I'm dinky-di," she uttered in a heavy voice. "You don't lie to me, I won't to you." _Oh_ , Castle thought, _so your partner you lie to, but stay truthful to the man who's deciding whether he lives or dies? Awesome._

"Good-o. Because if you muck around with me, I will kill 'em, with you on the phone, doing it slow, and you won't know who's up – so we can see just how well you know your _partner_ by the pain in his screams."

Castle watched Trapper John ditch the call, making eyes at him as he stood up to walk away. After a few steps, he stopped, turning back around on his heel to speak to him. "Your partner is a beaut. If you're not gonna have your way with her, can I?"

A moment's rage surged him forward, the thought setting a flame to everything inside, but Martha pulled back on him. Squeezing his shoulders to bring him back down, Trapper John walked away, light chuckles flying through the air back to hit Castle.

"Darl' you have to control yourself, remember where we are," Martha lectured. "We can't afford to let your impulses take over and get you, me, and everyone else in here killed."

The troubling part wasn't even in John's words. Those, Castle knew meant to irk his buttons, his ego. It was the remark that could pass, because the threat came empty. The real trouble existed in his head, as he remained wedged, between anger and love for her. As much as he wanted her to experience the same sting under his skin, he still wanted to protect her with his life. And in these matters of the heart, conflict enables you to do all kinds of stupid.

All kinds of unthinkable.


	3. Chapter 3

His words echoed back to him over and over again. Everything he said, the way he said them, the bitterness played on loop as he mentally pictured the burden placed over her. He knew she heard him. She heard every word. Each one intended to cut through, to slice deep inside, to uproot the guilt and bring it to the surface for her to tap. He wouldn't hold back. He wouldn't bite his tongue for her sake. Not now.

The cold shoulder he'd given her for the last week failed to communicate his feelings, so perhaps these words would finally do the job. Maybe they'd wake her up and remind her of the last year…a year of waiting, of patience he gave her every day, and in the end, despite everything, he still had the great fortune of finding out the truth second hand – from her lips, meant for another's ears. She lied. She remembered. She remembered _every second of it_. And it didn't matter how much love still flooded in his veins, under all his skin, pumping and beating in his heart for her. It didn't matter.

She would pay for her sins.

Some, however, didn't agree with his methods of punishment. Some didn't agree and expressed it quite vocally…namely Martha, who spent fifteen minutes lecturing him about the phone call with Trapper John and Beckett.

"You're not giving a fair crack of the whip, Richard," Martha muttered. Castle continued to assess the odd behavior of the robber in the safe deposit box room, simultaneously fighting to ignore his mother. Her words ate at him, but he resisted. "Ya know it's true, and that's exactly why you're not responding to me."

"Maybe I'm not responding because I don't reckon this is necessarily the best time to have this chinwag." he dismissed.

"Oh no? You don't think so? Because ya coulda fooled me earlier." She watched as he made eyes everywhere else, focused on each of the doctors, but she wanted no more of it and held his chin to turn it her way, making those blues meet her own. "You're dragging something personal into this, and spitting the dummy could very well do more harm here. I get it, dear. I do. The one you love lied to you, and that's painful. But remember the others here with us. They have rellies…people whom they love. Don't act up. Let Katherine work through this with a clear head. Not even for our sake, but for theirs."

He swallowed, setting aside his anger and listening, even for a moment. "I know my limits, mother."

"Well…I hope you do," she warned.

Redirecting his attention, he caught sight of a man just across from him. He rocked back and forth, face polished and flushed. Looking pretty crook. He had been sloshing back his water bottle in short intervals from the last time Castle had seen him. Exchanging looks with Martha, she nodded off to her son, and he scooted towards the man barely holding himself together.

"G'day," Castle tried. "How ya going?" This close, he could make out the beads of sweat, all the trembles along his body. _Bloody, poor guy._

"Uh–not-not so good, mate. If you didn't notice we're in a pretty messed up situation right now."

Castle looked to his mother who only shrugged, agreeing that it probably was a stupid question to ask. "Yeah–right, sorry. I just um–we're gonna come good okay mate. You know that right? What's ya name?"

"Sal. Sal Martino. And if it wasn't for you calling the bloody police we wouldn't even be in this mess," he spat, his stability draining out with each second.

"No-no, that's how we're gonna get out of this. My partner remember, she's a cop, and I know she'll get us out."

"I just wanna see my family again…" he broke, some tears filling his lids.

"I know. I know, so focus on them. Okay? Why don't you tell me about them huh," Castle said, trying to distract his mind.

"I got a boy. His name is Connor."

"I'll bet he's a ripper little ankle biter. I'm sure you can't wait to see him." Sal softened at his words.

"You have no idea…" he faded out in a smile. Castle watched him start to calm, and after a moment passed he went to leave, but Sal spoke up again. "What about you? Tell me about your missus."

"Oh. Beckett? Well she's…she's the best, you know, at what she does. She gets the guy. Always."

"She the one from earlier right," he asked, interest slightly piqued. Castle only nodded. "Maybe it's just me, but it kinda seemed weird between youse – but that's just me own two cents to toss out–"

"No-no, it's not unfounded. We just uh…we're having some problems right now."

"But…she'll be doing everything she can then? For this to turn out okay?"

"Yes, I trust that she will. I trust her…her capabilities," he forced out.

"So you're close then?"

He sat on the question, almost not wanting to answer, dragging out his nod, and speaking low to keep his words just between their ears. "I'd like to say that, yeah."

"Hopefully you'll see her soon too."

Despite the weird questionnaire, Sal seemed to come back down to normal. If anything, that was the important part. So without another word from either, Castle pat him on the back, and Sal returned a thankful grin. As he slid back to his mother, she fashioned a tender look on her son as he nestled back next to her.

"What?" he asked half-smiling.

"Good onya mate. That's the you I've been looking for in all this."

"Which me?"

"The concerned one…selfless. The one who tries to save the world by figuring out the story."

With a change of face, her words sunk in. He took a moment to look around, as if a whole new light shed over the room. A new perspective pulled him in. Musing for another few moments, he then proceeded to stand up, turning Martha ropable as the three doctors trained their guns on him.

"Is it possible to just go right here, or could we all start using the dunny?"

* * *

Waiting. Idle. Beckett hated it. She felt as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike. There was always a next move to make, another line to pursue, another way to go, and yet here she sat, stupidly expecting for something to happen. Each minute came and died, each second wasted. It made her ropeable, as she knew better than anyone just what kind of dog's breakfast a mere few seconds could make.

Standing in front of the bank again and staring into the doors, she hoped for something to change, but also not. Any sudden door slam, siren, or shout startled her, jolting her body believing that it came from inside. The waiting was certainly painful – but the worst part had to be moving and acting outside of the situation. This time she had to watch outside the line of fire…outside the crosshairs.

With Castle as her bloody replacement.

His words echoed back to her over and over again. She listened to his voice spit them out, calling her subconscious to wake up. She didn't want it to. If anything, she wanted to keep it down, avoid the distraction until this situation could find resolve, but her gut and conscience played too stubborn. Memories returned her to almost a year back, and the shooting would flash in front of her eyes every time they shut, seeing Castle's face hovering hers upon impact with the ground at her feet, the blood gushing as he uttered those words…those words that made her shiver, that spilled over her chilling skin, and stunned her heart more than the force of that bloody bullet. It seemed silly now, to deny remembering those few changing, last few seconds, and her gut reminded her so.

But she too was stubborn.

The thought lingered beneath the surface, shoved down out of view, but consuming every bit of her hidden mind as the active one waited for answers on the current situation. It was no wonder she felt so exhausted. Her idle feet tapped, and when she couldn't stop moving she paced, constantly checking her phone for updates from the boys. Espo was able to relay little info from his mates in ESU, but though little, darkened the chances of…dare she say, survival. What could she do? She didn't do this. She didn't do this work, nothing, nothing like this. They'd been in situations before, sometimes ambiguous and inexplicable, but this was another. A true test for them both. With their partnership, and whatever else that entailed, hanging on the line, she had to do something.

She discovered that first something after several minutes in wait when her ears narrowed on a familiar voice, one lost in the crowd behind her that pushed through to the front of the lines. When she turned, her sight focused on a flow of ember hair beaming under the sunlight, lifted by the light breeze and the girl's eagerness to wade through the crowd.

"Alexis!" she called out. The red flew aside with one turn to reveal a set of blue eyes shooting her way. Alexis slowed her steps toward her, brows furrowed and eyes thinned as she neared.

"They're in there aren't they," she said approaching. "That's-that's why you're here." She panted, but paid little attention to it, visibly more concerned on getting answers.

"Yes–I'm sorry–" The words seemed to evade Beckett when she spoke, speech suspended as she looked into Alexis, those piercing eyes all dulled out, gleaming with tears…her father's. Eyes Beckett may never get to see again.

"Neither of them answered me and dad–dad always answers and–"

Beckett grabbed a hold of her arms, steadying the young girl before her – but even she gulped in her efforts to relieve Alexis, mindful of the stakes, the stats and numbers set before them. "We're gonna do _everything_ we can, okay? I'm not walking away from this, from them, deadset."

"Really? So you're not gonna pull what you did last winter?"

 _Shit._ "Okay – I understand. You're worried, you're upset. But right now is not the time to get your knickers in a knot –"

"–He's been out every night this last week, did you know that?" Alexis spat, shrugging her shoulders up to remove Beckett's hold. She waited for response, but strain and distress painted on Beckett was more than enough cue to keep going. "I've barely seen him. He's off with the pixies. Just leaves, trying to think things through, and he'll come home, just to hit the grog in his study because he can't find the answers that _you_ haven't given him. And I know you know what I'm talking about."

Everything inside her fell, plunged deep somewhere she had no access to. He knew. He knew the truth. He must've if Alexis had the means to come at her like this. Eyes brimming with tears, she bit her tongue to fight every instinct to retaliate. The words were unsolicited and uncalled for, but she couldn't combat them. Not because of the truth, but because they came from a little girl who could potentially lose her family in one shot today.

Mustering up all the strength she had, she managed a couple words for as long as she could. "Mate–I didn't know, right, I didn't know. I'm so sorry. But hey–" Alexis started to look away, but she gripped onto her again to maintain her gaze. "I do–I do I care about ya old man."

Young Alexis started to peek out as she broke down more, shaking with anger and fear. "I watched him try to take a bullet for you Kate," she mumbled, fighting to keep composure. "And I'm so, so tired of almost losing him."

 _Bloody hell Kate._ Had that even crossed her mind? What he did affected more people than just himself…and what if he _had_ taken the bullet…God. The idea slapped right on her scar, struggling even more to manage a reply. "I know, mate. We–we're gonna pull through. And our mess is something that him and me have to work on, but after, after I get him and your gram out of this. Okay?"

"They're all I've got," she said cutting in just after, all the emotions still dripping from her voice. It broke up a bit more. The tears continuously flowed from her as she stood trembling, but unmoving. "Don't, don't let them go. Please."

She stood her ground, and aggro towards Beckett in her demands, but she understood – she felt the same way, but this was not the time to show weakness. So she nodded off to little Castle, holding her steady while suppressing pains, but their moment soon was disturbed when the assisting Officer Monfriez called her back to the command for the next call.

"Hey sweetheart," Trapper John dragged out when she answered. In these phone calls, every syllable he spoke sent separate chills down her back, like a never ending cringe. She tried to move past it, keeping in mind the goal while putting her uneasiness aside to get more Intel.

"You're sweet on me, huh?" she started, entertaining his game. "Okay, why don't you do me a favour then?"

"What's that Katie?"

"I need ya to start sending me some hostages."

"What can you offer me?"

"What do ya want?" she bit. He heard it.

"Oooh…should you be talking to me like that? Ricky here might not be too pleased."

If she could just talk to him…figure out what he knew as of this point. Maybe even how he was doing. "I'm sure he's fine with it," she brushed off.

"Oh I dunno about that," he started, "let's bring him in again."

Sure enough he set her on speaker, allowing her voice to blanket the room, spreading to the ears of each person. "How youse going?"

Before any could speak, John cut them off. "Oh we're having a bonzer of a time. I like Ricky the best. He's a bit of a larrikin."

"Oh really," she baited. "I think so too. He tellin' you his crazy stories?"

"Nah, not as of yet. He's just such a curious fella, and it's just so bloody funny to watch his face with a barrel up against it."

 _Son-of-a–_ "I'm sorry, what?"

"Aw, come on. He's your partner, you've gotta know this about him already, huh?" A pause passed, he anticipating some retort, but nothing came. "Sometimes he just…has a squiz where he doesn't belong ya know? And it's just really…really…h-i-l-a-r-i-o-u-s."

The hollowness and delay in his words burned her, taunted her. She sat convulsing, burning, and nearly crying –

But pissed off as hell.

"What do you want," she snarled. She wasn't asking anymore. Not now. Not like this.

"It seems I've hit a nerve guys," he said to his team. She made out soft chuckles through the line just before he continued. "Don't worry. He'll most likely be last. I like you and him, maybe a little too much, so I'll…enjoy you two for as long as I can."

As she went to answer, Castle intervened, clearly choked up, the gun possibly angled at his throat. "You're wasting your time," he stressed. Beckett gripped to the chair, breath stifled as she hung onto the words between their exchange.

"Am I? Why's that Ricky boy?"

"Do what you want with me. She's not gonna budge. You need leverage over her, sure, but you're looking at the wrong guy if you want any."

 _What the f–what was he trying to accomplish?_ He could only make this worse from here if he had something to prove…if it be the intention of his words.

"Is that so? By the sound of it, I'm thinking you're telling a furphy. Isn't he Kate?" She kept silent, looking ahead to unravel Castle's play.

"See for yourself," Castle egged him on. "Try something. Anything. I guarantee you, it won't faze her."

Her entire body burst into flames, either out of anger for Castle's apparent spite, or for his new kind of reckless stupidity. He just dared the dog to bite off of him. Boiling inside at the thought, her ears waited, the rest of her outside, frozen. Just a sound. She waited for anything to happen, to change, but only picked up the contemplation of Trapper John.

"What the bloody hell do you want," she insisted again.

"See Rick?" he teased. "She loves ya–"

"–just-shoot-al-rea-dy." Castle urged, serious in his demand as he punctuated every syllable. He responded like a knee-jerk, reflexively upon hearing those words. "You can't use me against her–"

Pop!

The world shut out, just like that day again. Peterson faded, along with the noises outside the command center, all the commotion coming to a halt as she waited for some indication of what happened, desperate to hear something from the line.

"What the _heck_ was that?"

"He didn't cark it. No, not yet. But gimme a tinted bus in half an hour for me and me mates, and I'll be sure to let ya know then."

And the line went dead.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Okay, so I know that Beckett was away for the Summer but because this is Castle and Beckett as Australians, I have changed it to winter because we Aussies and Americans have opposite seasons._


End file.
